Beyond All Imaginings…you are out in the world!!!!

Janet: “I’m sorry. I forgot…..”

Faeries: “We don’t care!!!” they leapingly exclaim.

J: “No..no, I guess you don’t!  I forgot you had this place to write, but hey, THE BOOK IS OUT IN THE BIG OL’ WORLD!!!!”  I exclaimingly laugh. (as if these are grammatically correct words, but who cares? We’re all a little on the ecstatic side of life)

J: “But I am sorry it took so long…”

F: “STOP,” they interrupt, “You are so Canadian. No sorries allowed. Time isn’t real. What’s real is the world needs a little magic right now.”

J: “And this is why you started haunting me in January. This is why being happy the family had it wasn’t enough.  Thanks for nagging. Thanks for signs. I am so grateful.”

F:   akeoriquopqaf998*ODjs    (dancing on keys)

J: “It’s beautiful – the book. A bit scary having such a magical but true memoir out there. But mostly it feels so perfect that it is out there, right now, sharing the magic.”

F: “Show them!!”

J: “OH ya, of course!”

TA DA!

F: Tell them where to find it!
J: Oh yes. What would I do without you?

You could go here for the  Print edition

or here for the Kindle edition

OR you can just go to your favourite Amazon site and search
Beyond All Imaginings Janet Whitehead

F: We are co-authors, but no one in the publishing world would put us in the search options.

J: People are saying good things… feeling blessed.

Thank you so much, Janet, I finished reading your book! I must say it was the most amazing book. Feelings of sadness, wonder, amazement and happiness filled me. Relating to your “spiritual” events gave me thought to some of mine. Thank you for making me believe!!!!!
Marie Ann Demoskoff

“Huzzah!” they whisper, so as not to disturb

“Huzzah!” they whisper. Too loud and they may distract too much. And that might mean a whole ‘nother chapter.
Hand holding in ‘ring around the rosie’ form, they prance in circles behind the wooden slat door of the laundry room, swung open because potter/ writer is too busy to close things. Cupboard doors are flung wide open, and the utensil drawer looks like it could land on the floor any minute. But the laundry room door flung open blocks potter’s view of the studio, so instead of hanging near by her quietly watching and carefully not disturbing, the faeries are dancing in the studio.
“♫ She’s almost done, almost done.♫ Final edits, she calls this.♫” they sing to you.
“We aren’t helping with that…because then she’ll have even more to say about us. And we just want the book done and out there.”
They hear footsteps and quickly flit into various corners…

Clue # 3

Oh dear, I really must get to bed.  Here’s Clue #3….  on this blog that has sat so quietly.  Mostly because we are busy writing the book, of course.

 

 

Almost finished!!!!!     For Clue #4 , go here!

Someone once told me this painted faerie looks like a disgusting blobby mess

Someone once posted on this site that this painted faerie looks like a disgusting blobby mess.   It’s a good thing I already know what I know now, and I was able to delete her comment with a “ha ha!” and blocked her from my site!  Ha. That was fun. Kind of a ‘brush off’ technique when outer critics might affect you… but internet style.

A critic like that can stop creatives, though.  If it’s happened to you, think of the occasion now. With a smiling breath, physically brush it off. Really.. take your hands and brush that energy right off of you.  There.  All Clear. Go create.

Once Upon a Misshapen Pot

 

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“Zen for me is a misshapen pot.”  That’s a favourite line in my novel.. which is – woo whooo! – getting completed.  A crazy bizarre novel… but more on that soon. I like the line, though.. because it reminds me that I’ve come a long way from a time long ago….

My pottery: Misshapen, carved, tiny details, faerie hands, heads, hair, bits of clay flying everywhere, porcelain sails, torn to look like sails, and more carving … this is NOT like throwing a series of symmetrical bowls for cereal.

And one time at a show, another potter -a production potter-  took me aside and showed me the bottom of his pots. “See?” he said, “the bottom of your pots have to be smooth and perfect.”

Well, I wasn’t as wise as I am now, so I didn’t come up with a witty remark.  I might now have said,

“Uh, huh… so once I’ve built the pieces with 40,oo0 bits of carved clay scattered everywhere over the work space, and once I’ve attached tiny little people.. I”m supposed to squash them entirely as I put the pot upside down on the wheel to spend time re-smoothing the little dints that occurred as a result of the highly creative one-of-a-kind process for each pot?  Is that what I’m supposed to do?  Hello!  I clean up the bottom the best that is reasonably possible… given what I do, do you not see you are being ridiculous by suggesting my pots be  PERFECT like yours on the bottom?  My bottoms are perfect in being one more sign that they are different.. in a good way.”

But no, I didn’t said that. I walked away feeling like my pots were not very good.  I knew it was impossible to have perfect bottoms unless I quit carving frantically, quit adding details like a madwoman, and of course, if I stopped listening to the call of intuition, the zone, the higher self, and all those little faerie-like spirits that always bossed me around.

Even though my pots started with a nice smooth bottom…. they were never going to stay ‘perfect’ unless I simply made a series of cereal bowls.

BUT still I felt bad.   The production potter’s  comment probably meandered around haunting me for awhile.  I probably even wondered if I should change what I do so I could have clean perfect bottoms.

I’m so glad I’m over that. I’m so glad that my imperfect break-the-rules pots evolved despite that part of me thought I SHOULD be following rules of symmetry and clean bottoms to be considered ‘good’.

But then, I can’t take credit for this… it was that crazy inspiration of spirits who first introduced themselves as faeries who pushed me past my perceived concept of perfect.

 

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Old iron, new silk and faeries

Hemming and ironing curtains today made me want to make cookies, bake bread, wash windows, and eat meat and potatoes.  Yes, I used to be a homemaker.. there is something lovely about the smell of an iron, the sleekness of silk,  and the purr of a sewing machine.  It made me wonder when  the homemaker disappeared, and I believe it was when the faeries arrived in my clay.

But that’s okay.  It’s good.  However, to enhance this lovely feeling of being a homemaker I went to the store, bought pork chops, and am now munching them down with applesauce at 11 pm.  Interesting.

Bear, bean, goats, llamas, chickens, kaylee, porter, megan…and faeries, of course

A misty February morning in a little log cabin in rural washington.  Four dogs, one named Bear – a precious retired sled dog, transported here from the great north to have  the love and attention of  Brent and Peter in his aging years.  And now Bear is my very dear friend as we chat about the other realms and other side, so hopefully he feels safer when he does decide to journey there.

Huh. Bear got top billing.  How ’bout that. Lets put  the other critters here too.. rescued dogs to love, goats and llamas and kitties to feed and pet – real life ‘farming’ is so much more satisfying than farmvillain.

Brent and Peter… oh so lovely of them to invite me to retreat in this amazing place.  Ah, and faeries.. I wonder if they knew they’d also invited them to join us.

And now Bean Badonsky has arrived! Here to… well… it just seemed we ought to meet. so meetng we are!  Kindred in our philosophies and love of advocating for the creative being, and oysters and cheese and crackers.  Honoured to be spending this time, and she, like the others have top billing in this post.. no matter how you might actually perceive it.

Ahhh. Heavenly.

And Megan? Well, it’s her birthday week, and I just love her.

The First Christmas Story is like a Song to Call in the Faeries.

The moment the first Christmas story of the season is read, the faeries gather in anticipation. Tis the time when mortals believe, want to believe, or at the very least, tolerate the concept of the magical unseen.

And so, these beings from the Lands of Fae, return from travelling many realms to be near the mortals.  They dance on the keysa’ e[ [wru azs89uaf and dip into the sugar more often than usual as they watch for the moments when a mortal may be a bit more open to their existence. And when they notice the moments, they pop in to share thoughts of magic, of faerie perception, of unseen beings who can take them to realms and places they usually think impossible. And love. They have this unconditional love.. sure, they might tease, coax, and use whatever it seems might encourage a mortal to believe, but in fact, they simply have this unconditional love that they want to sprinkle on mortals.

This is no big surprise – this sprinkling.  Magic wands have shown up in story and song and in the minds of those who can see, for centuries.

The unconditional love may come as a surprise… what with all those stories about faerie tricksters, stealing babies, and stealing one half of a pair of socks on occasion.  To this, those that hang with me say with a wave of dismissal, “oh those. pfft.  not from where we come.  and stolen babies? never happened.”

As you can see, these magical beings have adopted some mortal traits simply to communicate with me.  And you.  Smart. But then I suppose any energy that is so connected with the entire universe would be smart.

And one of those so connected with the entire universe is Santa.  He, too, sprinkles love and magic the minute the first Christmas story is read. Whether he is portayed as a jolly elf, a mystical wizard, or a saint… the spirit of Santa exists and plays a particularly active role at Christmas – a time when so many cultures and people are celebrating ancient stories and  spiritual beliefs, all with one common thread – a celebration of ‘more than what we see.’

As they go about their work, there’s not a word of complaint as they sprinkle love on those who dismiss Christmas as a commercial event. Not a word of complaint as they add extra doses to those who are overwhelmed by preparations. Not a word of complaint as they inundate those who are feeling nothing but misery.

Simply unconditional love. They are doing what they can to lift the spirits of the mortal being.  And sometimes, especially with the little ones, spirits are lifted so high, Santa and the faeries celebrate because they know these mortals know that they exist and can feel the joy, magic and love that the enchanted realm wishes to share.

That’s rather kind of them to do all this, don’t you think?

May your spirit be lifted so high this Christmas that you truly can celebrate the magic, joy and love of the ‘more than what we see.’

by Janet L Whitehead © 2009
Update 2017: They wanted more of their story told and so, this happened:
Beyond All Imaginings

The Magic of Creativity

(From Janet’s newsletter)

Creativity…  For me, it is blissful to witness a world that is evolving to recognize the power of our creative being.   Like magic dust finding its way into all nooks and crannies, those who were once considered ‘ordinary mortals’ are now experiencing moments, discoveries and creations that leave them breathless saying, “YES! YES!… but wait a sec, where’d that come from?”

We all know the stories of ‘elite’ genius minds, artists and writers, and their ability to be in a space where brilliant thoughts, ideas, inventions, answers, artwork and stories ‘come to them.”  When asked how these creators got the idea, they often answer, “I don’t know.” or “From God.” or “From spirit.” 
We’ve heard the stories of Da Vinci and Einstein and we’ve commented in awe, “Gifted.”

As we move from the Age of Information to the Age of Conceptualization and Creativity, more and more research, resources and stories are appearing that give credit and value to the creative being in each of us.  Yes, we are all gifted.  We simply need to find our best way to access our creative soulful brilliance.

And that access– whether it be through making art, thinking differently, writing, storytelling, dancing, yoga, playing, using our imagination, singing, visualizing and/or  taking meditative journeys – opens the door to the intuitive, wise, gifted and magical self.  Yes, magical. With ‘magical’ meaning “making the impossible possible.”

I, for one, am gloriously happy that finally.. FINALLY.. the word ‘creativity’  gets to take on its full meaning.  And that soon, when people see the word “creativity’ their first response will no longer be “I haven’t got a creative bone in my body.”  Last I heard we all have a right brain.  And I think that the more creativity is given its value, the more people will realize “Hey, I’ve always been creative… and it’s okay to spend more time with that.”

Simply by reading this and pondering the concept, you have opened a door of awareness and possibility. You might not even notice as old belief systems that have limited you start to melt away.  By reading this, you have taken a step in your pursuit of your unlimited potential as a soulful being.
That was easy enough, wasn’t it?  Yes, it’s all so much simpler than people think.

Christmas is a magical time of year.  Have you noticed how much creativity plays a part in the celebration?  Storytelling, theatre, baking, singing, crafting, decorating…. perhaps we have always naturally known a way to be open to the magic. 

And so, do what you do – leap in the snow,  add sprinkles to the cookies as you belt out Christmas carols, have quiet meditative moments  by the fire sipping hot chocolate and all the while, acknowledge yourself for time spent opening yourself to the magic.

By Janet L Whitehead ©2009  (janet@musingsandmud.com)

and now…

“and now, potter, will you simply write? ” asks the faeries, as they sit cross-armed along the top of the computer monitor.